


in a place with more to lose

by sapph0



Series: diner/college/nyc au [2]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, also diners., and weird places that i was planning on going to in nyc before covid happened :(, graveyard date! very much projecting the want to go on a graveyard date onto jared, lots of introspection and music references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25996102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapph0/pseuds/sapph0
Summary: "This has been Richard’s life recently: Wake up at noon, wash the sheets, go back to sleep, dream of nothing, wake up again at three, miss class doing jack shit (does coffee count as an activity?), and then face the nightmares again. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he makes time for Jared."
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Series: diner/college/nyc au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882900
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	in a place with more to lose

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic and this chapter is from Empire Records by Sløtface, a song that genius has the wrong lyrics for on their site which I am forever mad about.  
> Anyway, this fic is for everyone who commented on the first one saying they'd like to see more because otherwise I never would have started this. Get ready for some not-dates, date-dates, mutual anxieties, and introspection! Also lots of music references, I made a playlist.

_“Honey,” his mother says with that smile, the one makes Richard’s entire body go tense, “It will be good for you.”_

_His father lights a cigarette with the flames that surround them, and takes a drag. “Listen to your mother, Richie.”_

_“You will be fine, of course you’ll be fine. You’re always fine, that’s what you always say, right Richard?” His mother puts her hands on his shoulders “My sweet, smart little boy.”_

_Richard can’t speak. He tries to move his hands, his arms,_ anything _, but his body isn’t his anymore. All he can do is sit there and burn._

_“C’mon kid, you could at least put on a smile! It’s college, not hell for God’s sake.”_

Richard wakes up in a cold sweat, smiling. 

_Fuck,_ he thinks, _I sweated through my sheets again_.

This has been Richard’s life recently: Wake up at noon, wash the sheets, go back to sleep, dream of nothing, wake up again at three, miss class doing jack shit (does coffee count as an activity?), and then face the nightmares again. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he makes time for Jared. 

Jared’s sort of like the eye of the storm for Richard? Being with Jared isn’t a chore, even if it means going to class. They’ve even been hanging out at the diner after class, doing those “study sessions” where nobody does any studying that everyone always talks about. 

He can remember Jared laughing about something his weird Satanist roommate had done, feeling some emotion, some _thing_ in the pit of his stomach that Richard knows he doesn’t have any time for in his busy, self-deprecating schedule and yet, he’s been working it in despite that.

Normally, it’s exhausting existing in the same room as other people, constantly being perceived and perceiving in return, but with Jared, Richard is at ease. He doesn't smile because he _has_ to, but because he _wants_ to. 

Richard has to do a lot of things. He has to catch up on his classwork, he has to go to class, he has to graduate, he has to be an adult, he has to do what his parents are telling him to do, he has to be an adult while doing what his parents are telling him to do, he has to leave this place, he has to wash his sheets. 

Richard doesn’t want many things, but he does want to keep being with Jared.

But he has to wash his sheets.

As he gathers the sweaty sheets from his bed, Richard is thankful that his roommate has a class right now. He really can’t think of any way to explain this that doesn’t make it sound like he’s some small child, never aged past twelve. Also, he would probably just think he wet the bed which is, you know, _mortifying_. He’s nineteen. 

Bleary eyed and aching for caffeine, Richard shuffles into his slippers. He glances at his watch - 1:04 PM - calculating how many minutes he has to get to the laundromat, do the wash, and get back to the dorm before anyone sees him.

Richard doesn’t quite feel like padding down the street alone with his thoughts, so he balances his laundry basket on his hip like a child and taps at his phone a bit.

“Richard?” Jared answers on the other end of the line, surprised.

“Oh do you have class right now? Because I thought, I remembered, you said you didn’t have any classes now but I might be wrong. If you do have somewhere to be, I can hang up. This was stupid, I’m -”

“Richard,” Jared interrupts. “I don’t have any classes on Wednesdays. At all. You don’t need to panic. I was just surprised you called, is all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jared says, and Richard can hear his smile. “Do _you_ have a class right now?” He asks, and Richard’s insides clam up, his only thought is _escape this_.

“What if I do?”

“ _Richard._ ”

“Even if I didn’t have that… _attendance issue_ , I would still be skipping to do chores. I have to wash my sheets, they’re gross,” He hopes that’s enough to escape this line of questioning.

“I suppose,” Jared doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “So, why did you call me?” 

“I was bored,” he says, and it isn’t a lie, but it’s also not the whole truth. It’s better than saying _I don’t feel human, just here. Talking to you grounds me. I need that._

He hates that word, _need_ . For Richard, it’s easier to put things in two groups: have, and want. He has to do _this_ , he wants _that_ . _This_ happens, _that_ is a childhood fantasy. 

_Need_ doesn’t fit the language he’s used to.

“Of course,” Richard can’t identify the emotion that goes with that voice.

“So,” He arrives at the laundromat, neon lights illuminating the washing machines and people he won’t talk to. Absently, Richard wonders if they’re also on a tight schedule of self-isolation. “Do anything fun today?” 

Jared launches into an endearing tale of volunteering with his friend Gloria, who he’s mentioned before. Richard has a sneaking suspicion that she’s like, ninety-five years old, but he doesn’t really know how to work that into any conversation organically so it remains one of Jared’s many mysteries.

Here is a complete list of everything that Richard knows about Jared: 

  1. For a while, “they” thought his birth name was Donald.
  2. Jared’s a business major.
  3. He likes oatmeal, pineapple juice, and The Smiths.
  4. He has a _lot_ of friends with old-lady-names.
  5. Jared is very observant, but also very quiet.
  6. He doesn’t talk much about his family and childhood, but from what Richard can gather, it wasn’t the best time of Jared’s life.
  7. Jared is good at listening
  8. He has a nice smile.
  9. And a nice laugh.



But for all the things on that list, there’s still gaping cavities in Richard’s knowledge of the person that is Jared, the person who’s somehow simultaneously a business major and _not_ a piece of flaming shit who wants to exploit people for a living and laugh it off, this person filled with quirks and mysteries, like a story that gets better every time you hear it because there’s always something that makes you go _I should have seen this coming_.

Questions like _Is Gloria a 95 year old grandmother?_ and _Who are_ they _?_ and _Did_ they _hurt you?_ and _Do I want the answers?_ rattled around in his head like the quarters in the washing machines, whirring around only for him to stand still and say nothing until the laundry was done, ready for the dryer.

“ - Richard I wish you could have seen them. And the _kittens_ , oh dear, my heart was about to burst.”

“Jared, for someone in college you really do speak like an eighty three year-old. No offense.” Richard laughs a bit through his nose as he switches the wash, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear like his mom does.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Jared coughs.

“No, uh - Shit, wait, Jared - I just dropped my pillowcase on the floor. Is that still safe to put in the dryer?”

Jared chuckles a bit “I don’t think so, Richard.”

“Fuck. I’m out of quarters. Might as well put it in anyway then - “

“Richard, _no_.”

“Uh. Too late? But, either way, I uh. Like that you speak like that. It’s nice. Much more grammatically correct than me, which is cool,” Richard cringes as he throws the weird, cottony, dryer-ball-thing he hasn’t bothered to learn the proper name of into the machine. _Since when is being grammatically correct_ cool _?_ He thinks. _Since Jared, I guess._

“Oh,” Jared sounds surprised and quiet on the other end of the call, like he’s maybe had to bring his hand up to his face.

“Yeah,” Richard replies, starting the cycle.

“Thank you.”

“It’s - It’s no problem Jared. You don’t have to thank me. Just speaking my mind with absolutely no filters to a fault, like always. I’m surprised it didn’t blow up in my face, honestly.” 

Jared laughs, “You know you might actually have more filters than you think you do, Richard.”

“God, really?” Richard sighs. “Fuck, that means I don’t have an excuse for all the stupid shit I’ve said anymore.” He says it like it’s a joke, but he might really mean it.

As if his subconscious wants to make a counterclaim, Richard finds himself speaking without any of those filters Jared thinks he has. “Listen, I know that it’s daylight and we don’t have Donnelly’s lecture today, but if you want we could meet at the diner?” _Why - Why would anyone want to hang out with you during daylight hours Richard. You’re a reputation-ruiner, there’s a reason Big Head didn’t have any friends either and that reason is because you nicknamed him fucking_ Big Head _on the first day of second grade._ “If you want,” He adds, hoping to do some damage control. The dryer stops spinning.

“That sounds wonderful,” comes through his phone’s speaker, and Richard can feel his muscles relax. “This… may sound a bit odd but I actually have an idea for a place we could go? It’s not that I don’t like our little spot, I do, but I just… think you’d like this spot. Actually, I don’t know about that but it is _really_ wonderful.”

Richard takes his sheets out, and by some miracle, the dirty-ish pillow didn’t fuck everything up. They’re all fine, clean and warm. He’s tempted to hug them, but thinks twice - He’s in public.

“Um, sure. We can go wherever you want,” Richard pauses. “Well - Wherever you want within reason. Where were you thinking?” He’s got the sheets back in their basket, but now he has to figure out how to get the door of the laundromat open without hands or help.

“It’s a surprise,” Jared pauses. “If that’s okay? It’s a reasonable surprise, I promise.”

Richard chuckles. “I trust you, but if the surprise is cats I have to warn you that I’m allergic.”

“Don’t worry Richard, I remembered,” Jared says, which is weird because Richard doesn’t remember telling Jared that but he must have, in some throwaway, forgettable way, but, evidently, it wasn’t forgettable for Jared. He almost drops his laundry.

“I’ll text you a time and a place we can meet,” Jared continues as Richard attempts to pull at the door with his foot, hopping around like a maniac trying to get out of this place. Outside, some goth-punk-very-scary teen girl in a shirt that says _X-GIRL_ and a _lot_ of eyeliner taps the glass and makes an annoyed pushing gesture, and he suddenly feels very stupid. 

“Does that work for you Richard?”

Richard, despite the complete and utter lack of confidence from today's youth, manages to open the door and get to the outside world. _Yay!_ he thinks, _The bare minimum!_ “Sounds great, I think I need to get back to my dorm now though. Is 3:00 good?” 

“Three o’clock would be perfect. See you then, Richard.”

Richard says a small goodbye, and hangs up. Distantly he knows that that unidentifiable feeling at the pit of his stomach, the one that he’s been fitting in between hours of sleep and mindless Netflix watching, is back and he’s gonna have to work it into his schedule more and more often.

On the walk back to the dorm, he does his best to shove it down, deep into his sub-subconscious (and if that wasn’t a thing before, he’s going to make it one, goddamnit). He just doesn't have time to learn the function _need_.

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* I wish I was that goth-punk-very-scary teen girl, but alas.


End file.
